


I'm waiting for the light of your supernova

by EnlacingLines



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Sports, Athletes, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Constellations, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, I am wordy, M/M, POV Lance (Voltron), Prompt Fic, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, This ran away from me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-03-05 13:21:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18829501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnlacingLines/pseuds/EnlacingLines
Summary: Lance loves the idea of being literally written in the stars with another, but so far it hasn’t been the love story he’s dreamed of; the fated meeting, the instant and momentous connection.A klance soulmate AU where each person is born with their soulmate's constellation on their skin, the marks changing colour as their bond grows.





	I'm waiting for the light of your supernova

**Author's Note:**

> A while back, [interstelklance](https://twitter.com/interstelklance) on Twitter came up with this amazing soulmate AU concept, which I promptly screamed at. I then screamed even harder when they kindly said I could write it. 
> 
> Here we are. 11K later. Wow...
> 
> So, huge thank you to interstelklance! It's been great to write this even if I got extremely wordy. 
> 
> Please do let me know if you see any errors. Also if any of my sports camp knowledge is off. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, enjoy!

“I think it would be good for the two of you to work together.” 

 

Lance stares at Shiro in a mixture of horror and confusion, ice pack still nursing the small bruise forming on his jaw. Next to him Keith stiffens before starting to protest and really, Lance can’t blame him. Seeing as they’d both been separated after starting a fight on the running track less than thirty minutes ago, working together did not seem like an ideal solution. 

 

In all honesty, it wasn’t much of a fight. Lance has many siblings, cousins, half cousins and other miscellaneous family who’d almost maimed one another for less than today’s argument. His altercation with Keith was barely more than a scuffle in comparison, and the ice pack admittedly is more to try and make Keith feel guilty, but still. Not exactly the sort of behaviour which naturally leads to spending more time with one another. 

 

Shiro however, is adamant. 

 

“You both have skills the other can learn from, are at similar levels and compete in the same competitions. You could both work well together, if you can get past this…”

 

“Rivalry,” Lance says, and Keith rolls his eyes. 

 

“Stop saying that, we are not rivals,” he says. 

 

Before Lance can answer back, Shiro clears his throat. 

 

“Whatever you want to call it, it needs to stop. Now. Or you’ll both be sent home and you won’t be able to compete next season.” 

 

Lance swallows against any retort or protest he may have. Despite his dislike for Keith, he does want to be here, and more than that, wants to stay on his athletics team. He’s applied for several college scholarships on his sporting achievement, it’s crucial he completes the year. 

 

But it’s far more than necessity. Lance loves his sports; loves track, hurdles and javelin like nothing else. He’s been running ever since he can remember; running to escape the loudness of too small rooms with too many people as a child, running to empty his mind when it becomes too full of static to think. He loves the push and stretch of hurdles, the way his body curves over the bar, higher and higher as if he can fly. Javelin is about the aim, the perfect strike of his arm, the pole cutting through the air and landing exactly where he needs it to be. 

 

He loves these activities. He won’t let anything get in the way get in the way of them. 

 

It seems Keith is thinking similarly, as he’s slouched down, arms crossed and scowling, but no longer fighting Shiro. 

 

“How would we work together? 800 meters is the only event we both enter, and it’s pretty much a solo activity,” Lance says, accepting his fate. 

 

Shiro smiles then, relaxing in the knowledge they are making progress. 

 

“You’ll be each other’s training partners for the rest of camp. Work together to come up with plans for one another, use your strengths to target the other’s weaknesses. In a professional manner,” he says, affixing both of them in a glare with the last comment. 

 

Lance sighs, leaning back in his chair, still not looking at Keith. Sure, having a training partner would be great, and even he can admit Keith in theory would be a fantastic person to learn from. But reality is a different matter. 

 

“You are two of the top athletes here, and in your divisions. You can definitely learn a lot from one another, and I think it would help you both,” Shiro says, tone earnest and kind as ever.

 

Lance nods mechanically, not voicing the fact he does not believe a word. 

 

* * *

 

“Hey man, heard you got into a fight with Keith.” 

 

Lance pauses and turns to Hunk as he enters their room. 

 

“How did you...wait, why am I even asking, you know everything,” Lance says and Hunk laughs. 

 

“I think everyone knows; if you start pummeling each other on the track, people will see.” 

 

Lance groans and shakes his head before picking up his shower kit. 

 

“It wasn’t even that bad.” 

 

Hunk rolls his eyes. “Whatever you say, buddy. Any progress on your soulmate?” 

 

Lance feels his mind come to a standstill, a thrill of mild shock coursing through. He hasn’t thought about that in hours, his fight with Keith taking up too much of his focus. He scowls, fist clenching. Another strike for that guy. 

 

“Time to go check!” he says with only a hint of false cheer, which he hopes Hunk doesn’t catch. He enters the bathroom quickly, then feels himself deflate with every step as he approaches the mirror. Without hesitation, he whips off his shirt, and moves his gaze to the right, where the constellation of Scorpius winds across his ribs to his hip.  

 

Raised pale-grey outlines fill his vision. Nothing. Still just Shaula, one star on the sting of the scorpion based closest to his hip, a vivid red colour against the muted, barely there dark lines of the rest, it’s light yet to transfer to any other points of his soulmarking. 

 

The disappointment is a familiar spread, covering him like a worn blanket, no longer the sharp sting of sadness it once had been. This is Lance’s second reason for attending this particular camp: to find his soulmate. 

 

He’d attended last year for the first time, as he’d just moved into the 16-19 national athletics league. It was a whirlwind of intense training, as well as lessons in nutrition and biology to aid with performance and maintain health. He met new people, made new friends and came away feeling excited for the year of competitions ahead. 

 

It was on the last day, just as he was getting ready to leave, that he noticed the star. Just one, the curving sting he now knew so well had changed, small enough for him not to be 100% sure of when it happened, but huge in significance. 

 

Somewhere in that last camp he’d met his soulmate, and made enough of an impact to be memorable at the very least. One star did not mean their connection was complete, but the bond was beginning, drawing them closer. 

 

In the year since, Lance’s constellation had not changed. He looked out for those he knew at competitions and events, made sure to stay in touch with everyone he’d spoken with during the camp. But nothing so far, meaning it has to be someone he only spoke to properly at the camp, or perhaps hadn’t seen since. 

 

Lance had been ecstatic when he first saw. Up until that point, all he had to go on were they were born between October 23 and November 22. Now he had an approximation of their birthdate, and they attended his last athletics camp. Initially this seemed like a huge step, a guaranteed sign he would met them soon. Only this did not occur, and as time went on, Lance’s feelings morphed from happiness, to concern, to misery. 

 

He traces the one coloured star with his fingertip, then allows it to move up across the lines and stars, imagining what it could look like complete, framed in crimson. Lance has been waiting to meet this person his whole life, anticipated the moment when his markings would start to change for what feels like eternity.  

 

He loves stars and all things space, prompted partly by soulmarkings and a general fascination. He knows the names of each star on his body, can recite them in his sleep.

The world is full of astrological musings, with each person’s soulmate driven by constellations. Lance has read every book, every blog, every musing on Scorpio personalities as he can, and although he was wedded to it as a child, he no longer really believes in all the masses of conflicting information. However, there’s some he privately loves: he always enjoyed that red, his favourite colour, was associated with Scorpio, felt gleeful when the constellation turned crimson on his skin. Although it’s a water sign he likes the fire references, of mars and the phoenix; his favourite mythological creature. He knows it’s indulgent, but he adores that the first star of his constellation to appear is one of the brightest stars in the sky, the second most of Scorpius. His soulmate must be a flare in the dark, embodying their passionate, brave and stubborn traits, which of all the ones Lance has seen listed he thinks he’d like in a partner. 

 

It’s all guess work though; people are people no matter what star they are born under, and although he recognises this, he allows himself small moments. Especially recently, having first hand experience of the soulmarkings not being as perfect as movies make them out to be. 

 

Lance loves the idea of being literally written in the stars with another, but so far it hasn’t been the love story he’s dreamed of; the fated meeting, the instant and momentous connection. 

 

He drops his hand and sighs. He needs to focus on his training and finding his soulmate, no more distractions from mullet-haired idiots. And with that new spark of determination, he turns away from the mirror, constellations curving out of sight. 

 

* * *

 

Shiro suggests meeting early the next morning, knowing full well if left to their own devices, Lance and Keith will avoid arranging anything. When Lance arrives however, Keith is already warming up, doing slow alternating heel toe and knee up laps. Lance stops before he reaches the track, just watching for a while. 

 

Unlike Lance, who has been on various teams since he was a child, steadily working his way through divisions to get to his place, Keith blazed into athletics two years ago, immediately taking prizes and knocking current champions off their pedestals. No one Lance has asked knows what Keith was doing prior or why he suddenly took an interest, although part of it is obviously down to Shiro. Shiro runs these training camps, a new investment in local talent from when he moved here five years ago. He’s a former Olympian, only retiring after an injury, and Lance grew up watching reruns of his races; he was ecstatic when he heard he’d be running this camp. Shiro and Keith are related, half siblings if Lance recalls correctly, and Shiro always seems to be a mentor to Keith in training. 

 

Lance sighs, still watching Keith, his gate and flow incredible as ever. Away from their bickering and arguments, Lance can say without doubt Keith is extraordinary. Focused, determined and talented, powerful in his running and the long jump, his second event. He’s someone you can't look away from when they begin, something emanating from him that captures Lance’s attention and interest in each race; he can always pinpoint Keith in a crowd. 

 

He’d be somewhat of an inspiration if he wasn’t such an ass. 

 

It started after their first race together. Just as part of a warm up to a melee of events, six of them running together. Lance had seen him race before, was itching to see how they’d compare. Narrowly was the answer, Keith beating him by less than a second, a good run. Lance had approached him afterward, intent on saying hello and congratulating him. 

 

Except Keith had ignored him. Literally brushed past him just as Lance started speaking. Sure, Keith had run faster, but Lance was shocked by the rudeness. And it kept happening. Through the event, he tried to speak to Keith twice more, and was rebuffed each time. At their next race, where again Keith won by a hair's breadth, he turned away and marched off just as Lance was speaking.

 

So that was it. If Keith didn’t want to be friends, or at least on good terms, Lance would behave as if they were rivals. Essentially they were, as they competed in the same race, but Lance never truly felt the need to actually be on heated terms with anyone, until he met Keith. 

 

Therefore, when they met again at last year’s camp, he decided to declare war before Keith could brush him off any further. 

 

“It’s on, Mullet. I’ll be taking first place,” he said as they lined up on the first day for the first race of the camp. 

 

Keith had blinked, for the first time in almost a year actually meeting Lance’s gaze. 

 

“Who are you?” 

 

Lance felt like he might explode. Ignoring those around him, he spluttered, leaning closer to Keith’s lane. 

 

“Uhh, the name's Lance? We’re in the same division for 800 meters, we’ve been competing all season!” 

 

Keith had blinked, and Lance could see the hamster wheels turning in his mind. 

 

“Oh, yeah. Didn’t you win silver at the last competition?” 

 

A mix of rage and incredulity reared in Lance, bubbling up and charging over, but by then, they’d been called to start. Keith had won that race as well, much to Lance’s chagrin. 

 

Returning to the present, Lance looks to the sky, taking in the pleasant day before it inevitably turns far less pleasant. He and Keith are extremely close in their talents; Lance has never won a race in their meets, but Keith has never bested Lance’s PB score, set two months ago. Keith hadn’t been part of that competition, and Lance was kicking himself that he wasn’t able to personally wipe the knowing smirk off his face. 

 

He’s brought back to reality abruptly when a familiar voice calls to him. 

 

“Are you going to stand there all day or actually warm up?” 

 

Lance glares as Keith wanders towards him, taking a swig from his water bottle, his throat bobbing with the action. Lance’s eyes trace it, only looking up when done. 

 

“Alright, geez. Not all of us start as the sun rises. There is such a thing as over-training, you know.” 

 

Keith doesn’t answer and Lance doesn’t really expect him to, so he goes through his own warm up routine, ensuring his muscles are ready to go before returning to Keith. It’s awkward, more awkward than any interaction Lance can recall, Keith resolutely not looking at Lance at all as they move to the track. 

 

“Sooo...did you have any ideas to get this over with?” Lance starts, stretching his arms over his head as he does. Keith’s eyes flicker to him once before turning away. 

 

“Well, you need to work on your stride, it’s one of your biggest problems. And your upper body movement is too wild, plus you could do with building more muscle in your upper body in general to help your running. And I’ve seen what you eat, are you following a nutritional plan at all?” 

 

Lance blinks. Waits for his mind to catch up with every sentence, and blinks again. 

 

“Yeah, no, I’m out. Nope, not doing this, sorry Shiro, it’s not worth it,” he says before spinning on his heel and marching away. There’s a strange, half-strangled sound behind him and then the familiar tell tale noise of trainers on track. 

 

“Lance, what...you asked me if I had ideas!” 

 

Lance halts and turns back to Keith, finally done with this. He can feel the impact of Keith’s words starting to sink in, needles to his skin embedding inch by inch. Lance knows he’s not perfect, knows he has improvements to make but he’s not as thick skinned as he appears. 

 

“The point of a training partner is to help you improve, not an excuse to start taking shots at someone. I have weaknesses, yeah, but no need to be an asshole. I know you’re the fastest and you think you’re better than everyone, but winning competitions doesn’t make you superior. I’m done with you acting like you are every single time,” Lance says, impressed with himself that he’s only minimally raised his voice, unlike last time when he’d practically headbutted Keith as they got into each other’s faces. 

 

Also unlike last time, Keith seems frozen by Lance’s words, mouth opening and closing without sound. 

 

“I wasn’t...that’s not...I don’t, its-”

 

“Save it,” Lance says, shaking his head and walking backwards. “As I said, I’m done.” 

 

He departs then, not looking back as he moves as swiftly as he can off the track and back inside. He knows he’ll have to explain it to Shiro later, but for now he wants to escape, stop all the criticisms from circling in his mind and feel less like a failure. 

 

“Lance! I was hoping to find you.” 

 

He smiles as Allura appears, decked out in training gear, looking as if she’s just stepped out of a sponsor ad. He bows exaggeratedly. 

 

“I am here to serve, Princess,” he says. 

 

Allura groans and Lance laughs as he straightens. 

 

“I hate that article so much, I wish they’d never called me that. ‘The Heptathlon Princess’ what a terrible title. You’re lucky I like you, you’re the only one who can get away with that nickname,” she says, folding her arms and grinning. 

 

“Duly noted. What did you need though?” 

 

Allura smiles, unclasping her arms. “A few of us were thinking of spending the morning on hurdles training. Want to join?” 

 

“Sure, let’s go,” he says, immediately thanking the universe for giving him a distraction, a new focus that’s separate from his failed morning with Keith. 

 

It works too: their group consists of the two of them plus Nyma and Plaxum, whom Lance met last year, and Sven who he’s known for years and looks so much like a younger version of Shiro it’s terrifying. 

 

They make a good group, so when Allura suggests they continue to train together, it’s met with enthusiastic agreement. Lance is extremely glad to have something else to look forward to, and the rest of the day passes swiftly. It’s at dinner, when Hunk enquirers after his morning training session, that his mind darkens like a storm cloud. 

 

“He’s just such an arrogant bastard!” Lance says venomously, stabbing at his dinner as he does. 

 

“Yeah, that was kinda uncalled for. You know you’re an amazing runner though buddy, right?” Hunk says, tone full of soft encouragement. Lance manages a smile towards his friend, sharing a fist bump. 

 

Allura hums thoughtfully though, causing Lance to look at her with a raised eyebrow. She offers a weak grin. 

 

“I admit it wasn’t the most tactful way to go about it, but I think he was trying to be helpful.” 

 

Lance snorts. “Helpful. Right, that’s what it’s called.” 

 

He can hear his own miserable tone echoing between the three, and Allura sighs, shaking her head. 

 

“Lance, I worked with Keith earlier this year, I’d say we’re friends at this point. He’s quite brash and direct, doesn’t usually know when it’s appropriate to say certain things. He comes off badly because of it, but his heart’s in the right place. I know you think he’s being malicious, but I think from his point of view he was trying to be helpful.” 

 

Lance frowns down at his unfinished dinner, not sure how to reply. He’s barely talked to Keith except for their goading and bickering, so Allura is better placed to understand him. 

 

“Was he wrong with any of his observations?” Allura says gently. 

 

“No...doesn’t mean he had to approach it like that,” Lance says with a grumble. 

 

Allura nods. “I agree. But think about it, if he’s correct then he obviously spent time observing your running and eating habits to be able to draw such conclusions. That took effort on his part. I think he’s trying, Lance. Give him another chance.” 

 

Hunk nods along. “Makes sense, man. Also, he keeps looking over here, so I think he wants to say something.” 

 

Lance straightens and spins around, turning to where Keith is sitting on the opposite side of the room. 

 

“You knew where he was?” Hunk says from behind him in surprise. 

 

“He always sits in the same place,” Lance murmurs, just as a pair of violet eyes sync with his. Keith’s eyes are a peculiar colour, Lance thinks to himself in that moment. Purple can’t be natural, but perhaps it’s the way light merges with them, makes them have an undertone to the depths of their dark hue; something brimming, thundering underneath. 

 

He realises he’s just staring into Keith’s eyes, and automatically looks away. Both Allura and Hunk are sharing twin looks of confused amusement as he returns. Lance rolls his eyes. 

 

“Okay fine, I’ll give it one more chance.” 

 

* * *

 

True to his word, Lance awakens the next morning and heads out to the track. As he walks, he thumbs the length of his constellation along his ribs, tracing the stars and lines over his shirt. He can do this without looking now, a nervous habit born years ago. He likes to think his soulmate is watching out for him in difficult moments, his imaginary constant support. It’s soothing anyway, and Lance makes a mental note to be more focused on finding his soulmate in the coming days. 

 

Keith is stretching as he arrives, but it seems halfhearted. On spotting Lance, he stands slowly, arms coming to their customary position crossed over his chest as he leans with one foot up against the wall. It appears casual, but Lance can see the bounce and drumming of his fingertips, a tell that Keith is on edge. 

 

“Hey,” Lance says once he reaches speaking distance. 

 

“Hi,” Keith answers. 

 

A further uncomfortable pause. Lance waits, but the silence stretches, Keith awkwardly switching his gaze to one side or the other, obviously not sure what to say. Lance hates these type of silences, these strained moments between people, so sighs heavily. 

 

“Let’s warm up.” 

 

Keith seems thankful at that, literally deflating as they move to stretches and active movements before transitioning into proper training. They don’t really speak to one another, observing out of the corner of their eyes as they work on their own patterns, but close together. It’s the strangest joint training session Lance has ever participated in. 

 

They slow together, do a cool down lap side by side. Lance watches Keith’s stride, taking in his figure as he runs, pondering as he does. He favours one side more, something Lance has not noticed in the past. It’s typical for someone with a heavy injury, but he hasn’t heard of Keith suffering any problems this season. A more long term issue then?

 

They finish, and move back to the awkward silence of before. Lance is about to turn and leave when Keith’s voice reaches him. 

 

“Same time tomorrow?” 

 

Lance is surprised to say the least. It has been in no way particularly productive, but Keith seems far more relaxed than he’s ever seen him. His face is coloured from the exertion, eyes enthused and light, the full purple glow emanating.  _ Eyes really shouldn’t be that colour _ , Lance thinks to himself, then dismisses the thought. This is Keith, after-all. 

 

“Sure, man,” he says with a wave, a little surprised at the genuine warmth in his tone. 

 

Lance takes that feeling with him for the rest of the day, strangely upbeat from such a small difference. Perhaps it’s the weight off his shoulders, not having to worry about the possibility of his flaws flayed open and spread out for all to see. 

 

He doesn’t see Keith for the rest of the morning, preserving his image of them as stoic partners. However, the afternoon rolls in for sprint training and immediately his eyes scan over the other runners to find a familiar mullet. 

 

Keith meets his gaze head on, and Lance feels it rise under his skin; the fight, the anticipation, the laser focus on the only other person worth seeing in this moment. He smirks, lips quirking up unannounced and watches Keith frown before turning away. But he saw it, that small spark, that beginning of a challenge. 

 

Shiro calls them to the starting line and Lance elbows his way to stand by Keith, who looks vaguely amused by his antics. Lance catches Shiro’s eye and gives him a winning smile, hoping to convey a false cheer of them newly working together, rather than alert him too much to Lance’s competitive motives. 

 

Shiro just stares at him, unblinking. Not fooled then. 

 

They prepare, and Lance breaths in, chest expanding, that calm filling his being. He loves this, the moment before the pounce, the set off and the fire of his muscles working for all their worth. But these few seconds are the most present he ever feels, just him and the world, an avalanche of possibilities in waiting. 

 

Before he sinks in, he turns to Keith and once again meets his eyes, hue strikingly blue-purple in the sunlight. 

 

“Ready to lose, Mullet?” he says, voice low enough so Shiro does not catch it, but full of taunts just for Keith. 

 

Keith snorts in response, his stance shifting ever so slightly, his own preparation. 

 

“To you? Unlikely.” 

 

Lance bites back a retort, feels his body tense but forces it to relax. He takes that fire and fury and allows it to flow like a second skin, a layer upon his bones that acts as kindling; a new arrow to his quiver, driving him forward. 

 

For in this moment, there is nothing but him and the race. 

 

The whistle blasts, and they’re off. His mind barely catches up as he launches into the run, feels his energy levels hit their maximum, driving himself forward with the constant pump of his legs, eyes forward and fixed, breathing forced evenly. It’s over in a heartbeat, and Lance slows, breathing ragged, bending over to force oxygen back into his lungs and muscles. 

 

Shiro moves up to them, watch in hand, beaming. 

 

“Good work, everyone. We’ll be looking at individual pointers for the next hour. For those interested in results, Rolo came in third, Ryan second, and Lance and Keith first.” 

 

Lance looks up, wiping his brow and glances to the side. Keith is just as winded, chest heaving and hair plastered to his forehead. He’s embodying the Instagram ‘just worked out’ look, which bothers Lance more than it should. 

 

“What do you mean both of us?” Lance manages, still breathing heavily. 

 

“One of us should have a better score,” Keith says, pushing his hair back again. Lance wants to irrationally yell at him to use clips for his bangs as they aren’t going to stay. 

 

Shiro shrugs, an innocent smile on his face. 

 

“Not a second in it. You tied.” 

 

And with that he’s off, calling them all together, ready for individual practice sessions. Lance groans, straightening. 

 

“Lance and Keith, neck and neck,” he says under his breath as he starts walking. 

 

“What?” Keith says, falling into step with him and Lance grimaces. 

 

“Not talking to you.” 

 

“But you said my name,” Keith says, and Lance sort of wants to scream. 

 

“I was planning how I’ll beat you next time,” he says, wanting this to be over with so they can go back to quiet tolerance. However, Keith grins in response, all teeth and fight. 

 

“Hasn’t happened yet, keep planning.” 

 

Lance really does scream then. 

 

* * *

 

They develop a routine over the next few mornings, a strange one of silent running, observing but not speaking other than to clarify routes or moving from warm up, to training, to cool down. 

 

Then in any wider practice sessions it transforms; a battle of words as well as real races, exchanged half insults and taunting phrases which just drive Lance faster, willing him to push and speed whenever he and Keith are rivals in sessions. 

 

They manage to establish a rhythm though despite this. Lance can tell now when Keith is fatiguing, the way his body slumps, drains and his breathing changes. It’s interesting, observing someone this closely, a practice for the future as he wants to go into sports medicine. 

 

It’s the first morning of their second week when Keith turns to him suddenly, arms folding and his brow furrowed. Then he inhales deeply, moves his head to the side and seems to gain energy from this, before meeting Lance’s eyes again. 

 

“I’m sorry, for what I said on that first morning. It wasn’t meant to be a put down, I’m not...good at phrasing things.” 

 

Lance doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone have such a difficult time talking, so steps forward and places his hand on Keith’s shoulder. He blinks as Keith gasps at the touch, eyes widening, looking to and from Lance’s hand. Lance offers him a smile. 

 

“It’s cool. I understand now you were trying to be helpful, even if you sounded like an ass. Sorry I snapped back,” he says. 

 

Keith relaxes under his touch and smiles, a fledgling thing blooming on his face. It’s a good look, softens him in a way that is inviting; losing a hint of the standoffish vibe he’s so well known for. Lance matches his smile and it’s a nice moment, a shared understanding. 

 

Then Lance realises he’s just smiling and holding onto him, which is weird and he lets go with a cough. Keith rubs the back of his neck and shuffles between his feet as they part.

 

“Hey can I ask you something?” Lance says, jumping onto a new train of thought that’s been occupying his mind the last few days to lessen the strangeness. 

 

Keith nods, so he continues. “When did you get injured?” 

 

Keith’s eyebrows shoot skywards in reply, and Lance preens a little internally at being able to garner that response. 

 

“You can tell?” 

 

Lance smiles. “Yeah, I’m planning on majoring in sports medicine, so I kinda can’t miss it if I see evidence of an injury.” 

 

“That’s...impressive,” Keith says, and although it sounds like he’s trying to swallow a particularly large pill as he talks, Lance will take the compliment. He looks down at his right leg.

 

“Four years ago, motorbike accident. And no, before you ask, I wasn’t riding it. It’s meant to have healed fine, but it pulls sometimes.” 

 

Lance nods. “Do you have a routine for stretching it? Or know what you’re meant to be doing when the pain flares in terms of running prep?” 

 

Keith hesitantly shakes his head, and Lance almost claps his hands with glee. 

 

“Well Mullet, looks like we know what your training plan will focus on. So, warm up time. Bet you I can make it round the circuit faster.” 

 

Keith rolls his eyes, but does smile. “Lance, racing is not the point of a warm up.” 

 

“Yeahhh, but I bet my warm up speed is faster than yours. Come on Keithy, don’t be slow,” he says with a wink, and before he can analyse exactly why he’s winking at his rival, he leans into a jog and begins. 

 

There’s a moment or two, then he hears Keith’s trainers hit the ground, a sound that has him grinning widely into the morning sun. 

 

* * *

 

Despite this new level of understanding, the third week seems harder. Lance feels on edge constantly, awaiting a harsh comment or rebuttal that never comes. Allura is right; Keith isn’t great at controlling his feelings or expressing himself well. What he is good at is effective training plans and analysing movement. 

 

“You need to work your arms more. It’s weird, but by pulling your arms back and forth you’ll actually run faster.” 

 

Lance copies the motion while standing still. 

 

“I feel like you’re setting me up.” 

 

Keith gives him a look that radiates ‘are you an idiot?’ He uses it a lot and Lance stares pointedly back. He wouldn’t put it past him to do something like that.

 

“When you run, think about your arms. Your legs know what they are doing, so just don’t worry about them.” 

 

It’s odd advice but as the days pass, he does see it working, his body flowing more naturally. Lance has to admit, they do make a good team. They’re at a similar level, and Lance finds himself pushing harder with Keith around. None of the others in their camp have the same ethic and drive they do. To have one another to bounce off works. Or at least it does in Lance’s mind. 

 

It gets easier. He teaches Keith which stretches he needs to focus on with his injury, and he watches him take note seriously, incorporating them into his already tight plan. Keith is impulsive and a little reckless in terms of his training, deciding to try new methods and ideas on a whim. But he’s also rigorous and obsessive, honing skills and time so he can squeeze all he can from it. 

 

After seeing him and joining him in running, Lance gets curious about his performance on his other activity. Long jump was never Lance’s game; he had hopes of being a heptathlon competitor when he was younger, but the jumps caught him out. As he watches Keith and Allura though, he can’t help but admire the power and grace it takes to move your body in just the right way to bypass such huge amounts of space. Keith is up now; he runs his hands through his hair, flicking stray pieces from his eyes and lets out a small huff as he does. Lance blinks, looking away, unsure how he can tell at distance exactly what Keith is doing. Just over a month of training together and Lance knows more than he ever imagined he would about Keith Kogane. 

 

He drains the last of his protein shake, takes his phone out and ticks it off on his meal plan. 

 

“Wow, that’s pretty regulated.” 

 

He turns to see Nyma peering over his shoulder. He sighs dramatically. 

 

“Keith came up with it. I usually do my own but I was pretty slack to begin with so here’s my punishment.” 

 

“Yikes,” she answers, stepping back and undoing her blonde hair from it’s band. 

 

“So I can’t tempt you out for ice cream this evening?” she says with a grin.

 

Lance pauses. Nyma’s finished with her hair, and just looks back, small smile in place, confident and cool. He isn’t sure what this is; he likes her, she’s fun and they occasionally flirt back and forth, but he hadn’t really thought it went much further, isn’t exactly sure he wants it to. 

 

But she could be his soulmate. He doesn’t know her birthday, hasn’t asked but the timing of the first star would match. 

 

But he actually doesn’t want to mess up his plan, so he declines. “Sorry, feeling virtuous for once.” 

 

She laughs. “Fair. Let me know if you change your mind though.” 

 

And she’s off with a wave, leaving Lance a little confused, but happy in his choice. He turns back and realises he’s missed Keith’s jump, a small wave of disappointment surging. He wonders why; he’s seen Keith jump before, will see him do so again before the end of this camp, but the fact he missed this particular one is playing on his mind. So instead he wanders over to where Keith stands by the water, smiling a little as they meet. 

 

“Hey! How did you do?” 

 

If Keith wanted him to watch and recall he doesn’t show it, shrugging before answering. 

 

“Average, within normal range. How was javelin?” 

 

Lance grimaces. “Out of practice, need to spend more time on it.” 

 

It’s his weakest event, but he still does better than most, placing in every competition. He does need to keep his game up though, with a series of new competitors promoted this year from the younger division. 

 

Keith makes a sympathetic noise. “Can’t add much I’m afraid. More Allura’s thing.” 

 

Lance nods, aware he’s going to be in so much pain after one of her practice sessions. His arm already aches premeditatively. 

 

As they walk, Lance can almost feel Keith’s stride being off. He glances down and to his right, carefully watching each of Keith’s steps as he walks for a few minutes. He’s favouring his left over so slightly, right gate shorter than it was earlier. 

 

“How's your leg?” 

 

Keith flickers his eyes to Lance, then returns them forward. 

 

“It’s fine,” he says. 

 

“Uh huh...come on Mullet, don’t pull that. I know it’s hurting.” 

 

Keith grunts, pouting as he does and Lance has to stifle a giggle. It’s cute, even if he is an eighteen year old acting like he’s being scolded. 

 

“Okay, it’s aching a little but nothing I can’t handle.”

 

Lance doesn’t like that phrasing though, Keith shouldn’t be sitting there just coping with pain, allowing it to build up.

 

“Keith, are you sure-” 

 

“Drop it Lance, I said it’s fine.” 

 

His tone is harsh and abrupt, end of story. Lance isn’t prepared for the brutal rebuttal and actually stops walking as if physically obstructed. Keith also stops after two more steps, breathing in heavily before turning back. 

 

“I’m sorry, Lance. I just...you don’t need to worry so much, okay? I’ve had this injury for a long time, I know how to deal with it.” 

 

Lance hesitates, but after a moment, catches up to him, plastering a smile on his face. 

 

“Okay,” he says. 

 

They walk back into lunch, both peeling off to their separate tables without a word. Lance keeps replaying their conversation throughout the next hour, stealing glances at Keith every now and then. However, unlike their first lunch hour, he doesn’t look back, just finishes his meal and leaves, not even sparing a look in Lance’s direction. 

 

“Is everything okay?” Allura asks as he watches Keith leave. 

 

“I’m worried about him,” he says instantly, the words making themselves known without much thought. 

 

Allura mirrors his look until Keith has vanished from the room. “He was a little off this morning, but I’m sure he’s fine, Lance.” 

 

Lance agrees without actually meaning to, a nod of his head in acknowledgement. His mind still spins with thoughts of Keith and his pain into the afternoon, until Allura takes up all his focus with her rigorous training routine. It’s worth it though, as despite his arm burning just as fiercely as expected, he’s rewarded with a crushing hug and bright grin. 

 

“That was great, Lance! See, you just had to remind your body what to do.” 

 

He blushes, stammering out his thanks as they clear up. He thought his crush on Allura had passed, something of a fantasy left behind from when he first met her at fourteen. It seems though remnants hover, brought back to the surface with the pride in her eyes. It isn’t real feeling though, he is most certainly past that, but some part of her will always leave him flustered. 

 

They walk back together, chatting idly when Lance spots Hunk coming towards them. He waves and his friend speeds up, Lance’s smile fading when he sees the seriousness on his face. 

 

“What’s up, buddy?” 

 

“It’s Keith. He injured himself this afternoon, they’ve taken him to medical rooms. Saw you coming back and thought you’d like to know.” 

 

Allura lets out a soft ‘oh no,’ but Lance has already passed through the flood of ice cold horror, replaced by the incessant need to go, to see with his own eyes how he is. 

 

“Can you-” 

 

“I’ve got it,” Hunk says, taking his bag. Allura nods too. 

 

“Send him my best, tell him I’ll come by myself later,” she says, and Lance agrees before hurrying off. 

 

“Stupid stubborn Mullet, I knew his leg wasn’t fine,” he mutters to himself as he charges across to he medical building, taking the steps two at a time before he reaches his destination. As he does, the door to the medical ward opens and Shiro steps out, smiling as he sees Lance approach. 

 

“Lance, hello. Are you here to see Keith?” 

 

Suddenly, the past few minutes catch up to him and he feels his face flame on recollection. He’s just run all the way here on impulse, determined to see Keith, tell him ‘I told you so’ and lecture him on the effects of long term muscle strain. Which is not really a normal reaction, not something Lance would usually do for someone he is tentative friends with at best. 

 

“Uhh yeah. I am. How is he?” 

 

Shiro’s smile dims a little, and Lance’s heart sinks. 

 

“He’s doing okay. He needs to stay off his injury for the next four days. You can imagine how he feels about that.” 

 

Lance snorts and Shiro lets out a matching chuckle. 

 

“Go on in, I’m sure he’ll be glad to see you.” 

 

Lance is not exactly sure that’s correct, but he has little choice now, already committed to the follow through. He walks past Shiro and knocks once on the door. 

 

“Come in,” Keith calls, and Lance can hear his defeated tone through the door. It pierces something in him, and in a second he changes tactics. No I told you so, it was clear Keith was doing enough of that himself. So as he enters, he smiles brightly, now intent on cheering him up. 

 

“Hey, Mullet. How are you doing?” 

 

Keith is sitting on a bed, leg outstretched and iced. He looks surprised and a little hesitant when Lance approached. 

 

“Hey. Uh, not great. As you can see,” he says, waving his arm in the direction of his leg. Lance winces in sympathy before crossing the room and pulling up a chair. 

 

He lets the silence rest between them for a moment, allowing Keith to take control of the conversation when ready. After a moment he does, huffing in frustration. 

 

“You were right, it was bothering me. I should have sat out this afternoon, but that felt like giving in too much. Now I can’t practice for four days. Not worth it.” 

 

He sounds so utterly devastated it makes Lance’s heartache. He’s been there, knows it’s hard to miss out on races and competitions, but necessary at times. 

 

“You gotta listen to your body, man. If it’s telling you it’s been pushed too much, you can’t ignore it.” 

 

“I know, I know,” Keith says, frustration evident. 

 

Lance sighs himself, then grips Keith’s hand where it rests on the bed, partly to offer comfort and partly to gain his attention. 

 

“Four days isn’t too bad. You’ll still have plenty of time to train left if you don’t push yourself past your limits again. But you have to listen to your body!”

 

Keith rolls his eyes, but there’s a smile shining through. 

 

“Yes, Lance.” 

 

“Don’t ‘yes Lance’ me, didn’t I tell you it wasn’t okay? Huh?!” 

 

Keith laughs, just a small sound, but it seems to echo in the room, sparking a smile from Lance as the sound reaches. 

 

“Yes, Lance.” 

 

“Urg, you’re hopeless. Why am I stuck with you?” 

 

“You came here voluntarily.” 

 

When Allura arrives hours later, Lance is surprised at how much time has passed. He leaves them to chat then, a little embarrassed he can’t recall precisely what they talked about for so long; just conversations of nothing, of everything and anything they could think of. 

 

He decides to take a shower before dinner, and it’s as he turns to the mirror he sees it. 

 

The constellation colours have spread. Lance can hear his heart pounding, a bass toll in his ears as twists to get a better look. Lesath next to Shaula, then the stars all the way up to Sargas are ablaze with crimson, the connecting line coloured now too. He lets out a voiced breath, fingers shaking as traces the new outlines. They feel no different, still the same sensations and skin, but so much has changed, is changing before his eyes. 

 

It wasn’t like this earlier. In just a few hours foundations have been laid, embers fanned to begin the blaze. And Lance is not stupid; he could attribute this to his discussion with Nyma, even maybe hope in what he knows is vain to think it was Allura’s praise. 

 

He knows who’s lighting up the stars. The problem is, he isn’t sure how he feels about it. 

 

* * *

 

Apparently after over a month of waking up at the same time to meet Keith, his body does it automatically. Lance stares at the ceiling, willing his body back down to slumber, but it’s not having any of it. He sighs and sits up. Hunk snores away lightly on the bed opposite, a comforting sound at this point, soothing his muddled morning thoughts. 

 

In the daylight, he wonders if it’s a far fetched thought that Keith is his soulmate. Sure, the constellation changes match up exactly; they first properly interacted last year, and they’ve grown closer of late. But that’s all. Maybe Lance knows all of his stats from his competitions since he’s been charting his rival’s progress. And of course he knows his training schedule after becoming his partner. His favourite foods both inside and outside of the nutritional plans, the fact that even though he was hit by a motorbike he enjoys riding one, one which he named after his cat…

 

Okay, he knows a lot about Keith. And he’s not blind, Keith is nice to look at. With the dramatic eyes and his soft occasional smiles that Lance likes to see if he can trigger. The way he fiddles and flicks the longer parts of his hair out of his face without realising, or swats it back just before a race. Even thinking about this makes Lance’s stomach turn to lava, smile brimming and heart jumping that little bit irregularly. 

 

He pushes his head into his hands, and flops back onto the bed. A crush then. He has a crush on the Mullet. Wonderful. 

 

He lays there in his realisation for a moment, nerves flickering to life as he does. Last night was the first time he’s had a decent conversation with Keith, where they connected and clicked in a new way. He’s just still not sure what this means, how it relates to the stars and what happens next. 

 

Well, nothing happens if he just stays in bed, so grabbing hold of a strand of courage, Lance swings himself up, gets dressed and leaves his room. When he arrives at the medical ward, Keith is thankfully awake, although once again appears surprised to see him. 

 

“My body clock has decided it’s now permanently awake at this time, thanks to you,” he announces as he enters, flopping down on the same chair as the day before. 

 

Keith looks amused. “So you decided to complain to me rather than do something productive like training?” 

 

“Well I can’t very well train without my partner, can I?” Lance says with his best teasing tone, shooting finger guns at Keith as he does.

 

To his shock, colour rises on Keith’s cheeks. Lance blinks, and Keith seems to realise what’s happening, as he looks away, arms moving back over himself protectively. 

 

“Don’t be an idiot, Lance. You can train fine on your own,” he says, tone a little snappy and Lance decides flustered, embarrassed Keith is the best Keith, one he must draw out more often. 

 

If he had any further doubts about the crush, they’ve vanished now. 

 

There’s a pause before Lance jumps into a burning question he’s had for a while. 

 

“You know, I’m glad you remember my name now. It’s far less awkward than when I tried to talk to you before and you ignored me.” 

 

Keith stares questioningly at him. “When did I ignore you? I thought the first time we met was last camp?” 

 

It’s a struggle for Lance to keep his mouth from falling open. 

 

“Nooo, Keith, my man, buddy. I tried to talk to you like five times before that. You blew me off every time!” 

 

Keith shakes his head, looking a cross between determined and scared, which is a strange look.

 

“No, I swear it was last summer. I wouldn’t...oh. Competitions before then?” he asks, tone of voice turning dejected all of a sudden. 

 

“Yeah,” Lance says into the quiet. Keith groans. 

 

“Right, that makes sense.” 

 

He looks up towards the ceiling, seeming to be gaining strength for new words before continuing. 

 

“I got a lot of shit in my first regional competitions. New kid, knocking runners out, that sort of thing. So I basically tried to block out anyone who spoke to me after that. It took me a while to realise it wasn’t always the way. I’m sorry.” 

 

He looks sheepish as he turns to Lance, hair falling across his face with the motion. Lance just about resists tucking it behind his ear again. Instead, he balls his hands into fists and clears his throat. 

 

“I’m sorry that happened to you, man. Sounds awful. And don’t worry, I get it.” 

 

It’s calm afterward, the first quiet between them which isn’t truly awkward. Lance likes it, that settling. 

 

“How’s the leg doing?” Lance asks. 

 

Keith turns back, frowning down at it. “It feels better, but I have physio in an hour. We’ll see how it does then.” 

 

“I do not envy you,” Lance says solemnly, and they pass the hour trading horror stories of sports massages and physio appointments. 

 

It’s strange without Keith in the camp. Lance finds himself looking out for a familiar mullet, having to remind himself there is no chance of seeing it. It’s not a new sensation though, this searching. Lance wonders how he never realised before that he looks out for Keith in all athletics situations, not just when a race is imminent. 

 

He ends up swinging by the medical ward after dinner to find Allura already there, the two playing cards. They look up as he enters and Lance gets the sense he’s interrupting, a wave of embarrassment coursing over. 

 

“Oh, uh, sorry. I thought...I’ll come back another time.” 

 

“No!”

 

Lance turns at Keith’s exclamation, Allura looking for some reason amused at the outburst. Keith seems to flounder after that, and Lance isn’t sure what to do until Allura turns to him with a smile. 

 

“We can deal you in, come sit down.” 

 

She then mutters something to Keith as Lance fetches a chair, Keith shushing her as he returns. 

 

The game becomes heated quickly. Lance texts Hunk to join them and ends up writing their scores down, a constant tally of wins for the four of them. Or mainly between him and Keith, as Allura is abysmal at card games and Hunk keeps bowing out in lieu of the two’s fierce plays. However, it becomes clear three games in Keith cheats, and new rules are added to make sure they can see his his hand at all times. 

 

It’s late, but Lance can’t stop smiling, dealing what will probably be the final round of the evening. He looks at Keith from across their makeshift table by his hospital bed. 

 

“You’re going down, my man. And no cheating this time.” 

 

Keith looks solemn as he agrees, which then transforms into a wicked grin which takes all of Lance’s willpower not to blush at. 

 

Hunk clears his throat and Lance deals with his head down, ignoring the fact that his hands are shaking. 

 

They play, and Lance wins, cheering loudly as he does, Allura throwing her own hand down rather forcefully in response. Lance adds another check by his name, then thrusts the sheet of paper over to Keith. 

 

“A tie! Again. Lance and Keith, neck and neck!” he says, the words slipping out before he can think of the meaning. Keith though just smiles, bright and wide, nodding once. 

 

“I’ll break that tie tomorrow though.” 

 

And with that the deal is sealed, Lance’s heart jumping as another challenge is added, another promise of a next meeting. He sails back to his room, slight bounce in his step, chatting away animatedly at Hunk as he does. 

 

“So...you’re getting on with Keith,” Hunks says as they get ready for bed. 

 

Lance pauses for a moment, wondering what to do. Hunk is one of his closest friends, they see each other constantly outside of competitions. So he nods and then lifts his shirt. Hunk’s reaction is a gasp and then a muted squeal as he looks up at Lance with pure excitement on his face. 

 

“Keith?” 

 

Lance nods, smiling a little as he does. “I think so. I know I like him anyway, and the timing fits. But I’m trying to get to know him.” 

 

Hunk peers closer at the constellation before nodding. “Good plan. It’s only just starting to form, so you have a good basis for making something more. I’m happy for you, man!” 

 

Lance grins, own excitement rising. “Me too.” 

 

* * *

 

“So why sports medicine?” 

 

Lance looks up from his homework, glad for the distraction. 

 

“Seemed like a good fit. It’s interesting, I like knowing what my body is doing when I train, and how to keep myself healthy. I’ll probably always be into sport, even if I can’t compete. Plus it doesn’t hurt that I’ll get a scholarship to go. Otherwise I wouldn’t be going to college.” 

 

Keith pauses at that, but Lance smiles. He’s not ashamed, he works hard and he’s smart; the system is the problem, and he’ll do all the work he needs to make sure he can achieve his goals. 

 

“I have to attend a certain amount of competitions, camps and run a few classes for kids as well as getting the right grades to be eligible, but it’s worth it. Or it will be in like 10 years time,” he says with a laugh. 

 

Keith grins. “It’s cool you know what you want. I don’t really know what I’ll be doing next year.” 

 

Lance frowns. “Aren’t you already eighteen?”

 

“I’m a year behind. After my accident I couldn’t complete the school year, and ended up transferring out here to live with Shiro where there was a better outpatient facility. I’ll be going to college next year too.” 

 

Lance hadn’t realised how bad the accident must have been, if it left permanent damage and caused Keith to lose so much of his year to medical treatments. Something burrows deep, a hollow that hadn’t existed before, pain for Keith at a time where he did not know him. 

 

“Well, what do you enjoy? Obviously athletics.” 

 

“I do, all thanks to Shiro’s master plan. I used to run before, but didn’t bother joining a team. Shiro said I should get into training just to help with the recovery, but it stuck. I enjoy it, but not sure it’s a lifelong thing.” 

 

Lance hums, knowing that feeling. The life cycle of an athlete is short and sharp, and that’s only if you’re at the pinnacle. They’re both good nationally, but further than that? Another story. An idea strikes though, and Lance points down at Keith’s recovery training plan he’s been working on while Lance studies. 

 

“You’re good at this though. Better than I am. Not sure how you make a career out of it, but it’s something, right?” 

 

Keith looks down at the sheet and smiles.  Lance catches a look at the plans, and stands, grinning as he does. 

 

“Wanna show me how it’s going?” 

 

Keith groans, sitting up and dragging his leg out of the way. 

 

“No, Lance I did physio already, I’m not going through it again.” 

 

Lance laughs and tries to stop him, moving forward and placing his hand on Keith’s leg. Keith narrows his eyes and shifts it suddenly, causing Lance to yelp and topple forward, losing balance for a second before catching himself. 

 

There’s an inhale from both as Lance braces himself almost directly over Keith. Lance’s arms start shaking, the drumbeat of his heart in his throat and his ears. His stomach fizzes, and he watches as Keith unconsciously licks his lips, his eyes flickering to Lance’s face. 

 

He wonders if he should kiss him. 

 

But before he can further that thought, the nurse bundles in, and Lance stands swiftly. She frowns when she sees him. 

 

“Lance, it’s gone ten, you need to go back to your room.” 

 

“R-right! I’ll see you tomorrow!” Lance says, backing away from Keith and wondering if his face is as flushed as it feels. 

 

“See you,” Keith says, smiling calmly, as if this were a completely normal conversation. Lance finds himself blushing harder, and almost runs from the room. He has to scream into his pillow for several minutes afterwards, much to Hunk’s amusement.

 

* * *

 

His legs ache but he’s almost done. Lance can feel his throat burning, chest tight with the gasps for air, each inhale a stretch, each step momentous but the finish line is there. He cannot see anything but the goal now, just wills his body to go through the final stage, just a few more steps, just a few more pulls of his arms. 

 

Then, it’s done. He slows gradually, gasping for air before coming to a standstill, body folding into it’s recovery mode. Shiro beams at him, showing him the clock. 

 

“Not quite a PB but in the top of your range. Excellent work, Lance! We’ll definitely top that PB time this summer.” 

 

Lance manages a smile of his own, pride snaking through the exhaustion. His hard work is paying off, and Keith’s plans do make a difference. He knows the guy will tease him later, but he doesn’t mind, actually looks forward to it, as he does all their interactions now. He showers quickly, still marveling at the changes in their relationship as he gets ready. 

 

The rivalry as he dubbed it initially has become more of a meter to challenge himself, to better himself. He sees the positives in Keith’s runs and uses them as inspiration, his times as goals to hit. Their banter is playful, supportive in it’s teasing nature, an undercurrent of knowing the other will achieve, they just need a push. 

 

He like this. Their building. Every step paves the way to a new surprise, a new expression on Keith’s face, a new smile to capture in his mind. It’s fun, it’s beautiful, it’s exciting. He just hopes Keith feels it too.

 

The constellation has moved with them, the stars up to Alniyat now coloured, with the final cluster still to go, and Lance has definitely fallen into the smitten category. The almost kiss from two evenings ago still haunts his dreams, the what ifs a constant mantra. 

 

He’s so consumed by his own thinking that for a moment he almost believes he imagines Keith waiting for him outside the changing rooms. That is until he smiles at Lance, that favourite smile of his, and walks towards him. 

 

“Should you be walking?” Lance asks, looking down at his leg. Keith rolls his eyes. 

 

“Yes, I’m meant to start using it regularly from today. Do you really think Shiro would let me move otherwise?” 

 

“Fair point,” Lance says, and the two fall in step beside one another. 

 

“I saw you run. You did great, Lance. Really. I can see you’ve been training hard.” 

 

The praise catches him off guard, settles in him like the feel of home and he basks in it, grinning from ear to ear. He turns to Keith, their steps slowing as he does. 

 

“It’s partly thanks to you, actually. Your plans helped a lot. Thank you,” he says. 

 

It’s a captured moment, frozen in one another and it’s then Lance just knows. Knows like he does the name of every star in his constellation that now is his time to speak, to tell Keith how he feels. He just has to, a growing impulse that will not be quelled. 

 

He can feel his nerves curling with the realisation but he will not let this opportunity pass, this time escape. 

 

“I like you, Keith,” he begins and Keith becomes motionless, a captive of Lance’s confession. Lance feels his voice shake, but pushes past, barrels forward into the emotions which have accumulated within.

 

“I like this time we’ve had together. I like your strength, your impulsiveness and your determination. I-I like how you help me become stronger, and I like how we work together. We’re a good team, the best!  And...errr I think...I think you might be my soulmate.” 

 

Keith’s eyes are liquid velvet, deep and flowing, wide and enrapturing as the impact of Lance’s words hit. He blinks and it seems to cause a chain reaction in him for he steps forward and awkwardly takes Lance’s hand, first missing his grip slightly, then centering, adding in one squeeze before it is his turn to talk. 

 

“I like you too, Lance. It’s been amazing, getting to know. Your smiles, your ability to join in with anyone, to light up the room. You’re strong on your own, and I like being able to see that, to be part of that in any way I can. I like that you support me. That you try and reach me, that you kept coming back to visit when I was hurt. I just...like you, everything about you.” 

 

He stops then, a flash of worry tumbling across his face. 

 

“I haven’t checked my stars though,” he says, a whisper. 

 

Lance feels a shattering start to take place, fear seeping in through cracks, potential that may not be. Keith sees this and surges forward, letting go of his hand and cupping Lance’s face in both his palms unexpectedly. 

 

“It doesn’t matter though. I don’t care if you’re not, Lance, that’s just a bonus. I haven’t checked because the marks matter less to me than actual feelings.” 

 

Lance is submerged in the feel of Keith’s skin on his, in the caress of the bold words which rally forth. He is so lucky to be cared for by this person, by this man who holds more of Lance than he truly realises. 

 

Keith’s fingers leave slowly and Lance smiles, courage back up, fear dismissed to the background. 

 

“Well, my birthday is July 28. Leo,” he adds as Keith looks blankly at him with the date. 

 

Keith inhales, quick and sharp, a hand coming to his mouth. He turns away from Lance, and he feels everything drain away, a drowning as he realises this must mean Keith is not his soulmate. 

 

That is, until Keith lifts the hem of his shirt. 

 

Lance’s eyes widen as there, hugely, sprawling the whole expanse of his back, is the constellation of Leo. Much like his own, the last few stars are still traced in muted black, but the upper part is luminous cobalt. It’s so bright against the paleness of Keith’s skin it looks almost pulsing, vivid and alive in the sunlight. 

 

Keith drops his shirt and spins around, eyes a little wet around the edges, smile wavering a little at the overflowing of emotion. This time it’s his turn to decrease the space, his forehead coming to rest against Keith’s, who is still struggling to breathe a little. 

 

“And you’re Scorpio?” 

 

He feels a nod against him, and when Keith replies, it’s a choked half-sound. “October 23.” 

 

Lance chuckles in glee, cannot help it. He feels as if he’s become a helium balloon, floating off and away, unable to stay grounded. He winds his arms around Keith, their closeness sapping out any remaining space. 

 

“Please can I kiss you,” Keith asks, and Lance huffs. 

 

“That’s my line don’t steal it, pretty boy,” Lance says. 

 

They meet in the middle, somehow, although they’ll both claim they were the first. The first to a first kiss, mouths touching, testing sensation, moving through new patterns as they find their footing on this new stage, a new start of something more. 

 

They stumble back to Keith’s room, Lance gripping on his hand and the two attempting to learn how to walk when pressed up side by side, Lance trying to steal kisses every few steps and Keith letting him. As they stumble inside they practically crash into Allura who stares at them in shock. 

 

“Err...we’re soulmates!” Lance says with glee, words pulling themselves from his heart and lifting Keith’s hand in his as he speaks. 

 

“Lance,” Keith hisses, whole face flushing but Lance knows now that expression is happiness, knows Keith well enough over their time together to understand the flurry of emotions. 

 

Allura’s eyes light up, and she grins. 

 

“That’s amazing! Congratulations.  Well, don’t let me stop you,” she says, moving out of the doorway and gesturing down the hall with a wink. 

 

Lance sputters at the implication, denials spilling forth but Keith just dives on the excuse to leave, pulling Lance away, the echo of Allura’s bright laughter following their footsteps. Lance suddenly feels the rush of the day catch up, almost dizzy as Keith opens the door to his room and they move inside. 

 

He’s found his soulmate. It’s really happened. 

 

“I can’t believe I found you,” he says, voicing the thoughts and just about resisting slapping his hand over his mouth in an attempt to stop each flickering idea slip out into reality. 

 

Keith laughs though, walking over and kissing his nose. Lance blinks, Keith still in his space as they part, Lance’s cheeks red from the adorable touch. 

 

“Believe it. I’m here. Can I...can I see?” he says, gesturing at Lance. 

 

Lance blinks, realising he hasn’t actually shown his markings. Feeling a little embarrassed, he nods, and pulls his shirt off before he can truly think about being half naked in Keith’s room. He looks down, and gasps. 

 

Red. So much red, brighter than he ever thought as Scorpius blazes across his skin. It’s beautiful, every stroke and connection, each star shining in colour so vivid Lance feels as if it will ignite, rise from his skin and set itself on fire in the sky, a mirror of it’s true constellation in crimson. 

 

“It’s complete,” Lance says, voice coming from miles away. 

 

“Of course it is,” Keith says, as if the simplest thing in the world. Lance wants to mention that his was not, but stops short when pale fingers reach out; carefully at first and then with purpose. 

 

Lance thinks he’ll shiver, thinks it will send each nerve radioactive, but it doesn’t. It’s just belonging, warmth springing with every trace of Keith’s calloused hands, every swipe on his skin. It’s homecoming, his soulmate cherishing their mark, their knowledge of what they will be together. For the first time, it is not just Lance running his fingers over the marks, gaining comfort and reassurance. Now Keith is doing the same, his smile growing as he does, a ghost of Lance’s own years of practiced movements. 

 

“Can I see yours again?” Lance asks, too eager to know, to see. 

 

If Keith thinks it’s an odd request he doesn’t say, just nods once then turns, pulling off his shirt and discarding it on his bed. Lance feels his eyes well, his heart race and stutter at the full spectrum of blue of the Leo constellation, Keith’s back an ocean of colour. 

 

Complete. Just like his is now, a twin set. Their connection written on each other’s skin, ready for them to build and shape in their own ways. 

 

Later, as they sit together, still reveling in the warmth of one another, Lance will announce their stars were complete in the moment of their first kiss, and Keith won’t deny it. He’ll simply trace his hands over the new constellation, mapping the stars, his stars on Lance’s skin.   
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/EnlacingL/) and [Tumblr](http://enlacinglineswrites.tumblr.com).


End file.
